Letters

Mon Cheri:

Sometimes life gives you opportunities in disguise. I declare myself a faithful believer in that cheap philosophy message. I had to go to the office to sign some documents. As you can imagine, I had to cancel my class with Ricky. You must have seen my surprised face when I saw him waiting at the door of the building where I work. I forgot that sometime before all this madness, I told him where I worked, don't know and doesn't matter.

There was practically only the guard. We were practically alone on the floor. The rest of the offices are still closed. As I searched for the documents I had to sign, Ricky came up behind me and put his hands on my waist. My first reaction was to want to run out like a fucking headless chicken. He was shocked. He apologized. I told him to wait a minute. I signed the documents and left them at the front desk as the courier would pick them up at any time. I went to the bathroom, took off my underwear, and came back for Ricky. I sat him on my desk, put my hand inside his pants and stroke him. I could feel him against me. I could feel his response to my kisses. His face in my hands. You don't know how much I wanted to rub my breasts against his mouth at that time.

I asked him to go away somewhere else. I wanted to be alone with him. See me reflected in the window of his clear eyes.

We went to his house. On the way, I remember his hand going up my leg and under the little dress. I couldn't help my body's response to his hands, and he realized my wet pussy. We entered a small apartment. Mon Cheri, I was dying of nerves. When I entered, I just wanted to buy time to know what to do, so I made the stupid pretext of being thirsty. We went to the kitchen, yeah, I know it was very silly. I couldn't think of anything else. I shouldn't be there, and yet there I was. I drank the water, and Ricky went away to put on some music. When he came back, he stood behind me, as I had imagined so many times during my exercise routines and as many more during my five minutes of solitude under the shower during the confinement. Ricky kissed my neck, and there it was. I transformed, Mon Cheri. That's when I knew that he wasn't going to be the one to take me. I was going to be the one to take over Ricky.

I turned around, kissed him on the lips and pressed myself against his well-formed body, ripping off his shirt, and I could feel the muscles of his chest and the little hair that covers it. It was me who kissed his well-shapped abs, and my hands ran through those V-shaped muscles that go down to his cock that responded to my caresses. I pounced on him, wrapped my legs around him and jump over him. His hands grabbed my ass. He was the prey. We continued kissing and order him to walk towards the living room.

I take off my dress and slowly feel him penetrate me. I could feel the warmth of his body run through me. We did it there, standing, me on top of him, ramming his body with my hips. I could see his face enjoying what I did to him. I got hold of Ricky. Everything went my way. I made him sit down and went inside me again, I kissed him again, I touched him again, put his face between my legs and with his mouth, and his hand was inside me again. And her face Mon Cheri, it was as if he couldn't believe what was happening to him, he was about to explode with pleasure, my body reflected in his clear eyes.

So as you imagine, the return home was interesting. For all that, I will make an exception. You will see my face against my self imposed rules. What are the rules and limits in these times where everything is fuzzy? Is it worth giving up living when death breathes down your neck?

I chose you as the guardian of my misdeeds because I know little about you. I only know that now you are there, Mon Cheri. Today you are surrounded by others who are like you. I know that these days have filled your days with unexpected company. They struggle to live and you who are forced to be here. I do not know if you understand what I say in these letters if you listen to who describes my photos next to your bed. You are only connected to the machines that allow you to breathe. Nobody knows if you are conscious, if you can still think of something, or if you are just a pile of forgotten remains connected to a machine. I knew from your family that you were one of those who live only to avoid risks and look at you now. What was the use of not risking anything in your life? Did it help to let fear decide your fate? You are paralyzed. Anyone can explain what happened to you, you only fade away little by little, but you don't finish consuming yourself. Do you enjoy your life now? If that can be called life. You should have taken your chance Mon Chéri.

But I will not let whoever reads this ruin my photo. I will describe this to you, I will give you clues, and it is your problem if whoever reads these lines solves your curiosity and relieves your lust. Maybe you still have it despite so many tubes and hoses coming out of you.

I know you don't know me, but this is me, Mon Cheri. That is my face, and I am completely naked. That was taken by Ricky. This one was not seen by John. This one will only be yours, Mon Cheri. Finally, you will see my breasts completely. You will be able to see that small line of hair in my pubes. You will be able to know my face. I am completely before your eyes, Mon Chéri. You will see that expression on my face, my eyes closed, my mouth ajar, as if I still felt Ricky inside me and was about to explode again. Isn't it one of the most intimate expressions that we can share with someone? It is the gesture of my morning with Ricky.

X.

I search through the whole book, I move each one of the pages looking for the photo. I still can't find the image. In the end, I get to the last page with no traces of X. I'm in the last line of this book, I can't find anything except this line at the end of everything: "the headlights of a yellow Corvette go on and off."